rhythm of life
by treehilluver23
Summary: Bad boy Christian Reed is sent to work on The Webster Family Farm as his last chance. There he meets the farmer's daughter who sees something in him no one else ever has.
1. Exiled

**Title: **Rhythm of Life**  
**

**Fandom: **Dance Academy**  
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**Character(s)/Ship: **Christian/Tara**  
**

**Rated: **R**  
**

**Spoilers: **AU**  
**

**Summary: **_Bad boy Christian Reed is sent to work on The Webster Family Farm as his last chance. There he meets the farmer's daughter who sees something in him no one else ever has._

* * *

**Chapter One | Exiled**

The sixteen year old male tapped his worn black sneakers against the overly-polished floor of the courtroom. His light brown eyes scanned the room. His social worker, who could give less than a damn about him, has yet to show up. This isn't the first time he has been in this situation. He's no stranger to the judicial system, and this probably won't be his last time either. He knows that he's a screw up. There is no way of getting around it. He'd been told he'll never amount to anything, and if he is being honest with himself, then he will admit that those people were right. He did dumb shit like help his friends lift shit they didn't need from corner stores and be look out while his friends jacked some bastard's car. He won't pretend like he's good underneath it all because he isn't. He hasn't been that kind of a person since before the accident.

He's brought from his thoughts by the rustling sound of papers hitting the floor and a briefcase knocking against the courthouse seats. He knows it's his sorry ass social worker before he even turns around. The man is short and aging with patched of gray hair on his head. He always wears these worn pair of brown patent leather shoes that sneak when he walks. He plops down next to him, sending a wave of coffee and cat piss through the air.

"Sorry, I'm late, Mr. Reed," his social worker, Burt Reynolds (he's not joking that is the dude's name) apologizes in a rushed tone. His papers are scattered out of his worn briefcase as usual.

The judge comes in shortly after with a scowl that seemed permanently sketched on his face. "Christian Reed," he read the file over his glasses.

Christian stood beside Burt, over towering the man by at least two feet, tilting his head slightly. Christian really didn't have time for a lecture. All he wanted was his punishment of community service so he could head to the skate park with his best friend.

"Mr. Reed, I am really tired of seeing you in my courtroom," judge Sanders barked. That feeling is indeed mutual, Christian thought to himself. Christian knows the dude hates him personally because he slept with the dude daughter a few months ago and never called her back. He really only dated her in order to earn cool points with her dad before his hearing.

"I will assure you, judge Sanders that this will be the last time you see Mr. Reed," Burt hopped in, knowing Christian's need to make sly retorts.

"I hope you're right, Mr. Reynolds," Judge Sanders said grumpily. He scanned through Christian's file again with a disgusted expression. "I have the power to send you to juvie after the stunt you and your friends pulled, but I am all about second chances, or in your case, Mr. Reed, fifth chances."

"You're too good to me, Judge Sanders," Christian said dully.

Burt elbowed his sharply before turning his attention back on the judge. "Thank you, Judge, I am sure Christian will make the most of his punishment."

"Mr. Reed, you will be sent to work on the Webster Family Farm for the duration of the summer," Judge Sanders explained. "Mr. Reynolds will be checking in with you periodically to make sure things are going smoothly. This is your last chance, Mr. Reed, so do not screw this up because the only way to go from here is incarceration."

Judge Sanders banged the gavel against its stand before ordering the next case to be sent in. Christian followed Burt into the hallway. The last thing he wanted to do is spend his summer away from home working on some farm, but he didn't really have any other options. And if he stayed in the city, there is a huge chance that he'd end up past this last resort he is being given. Christian watched from the sidelines as Burt stuffed papers into his brief case. If the man organized his shit a little then maybe he could be on time for once.

Once Burt got situated, he focused on Christian. "All right, son, this is your last chance. I don't want to have to see you end up behind bars. I'll be by your foster parents place tomorrow to pick you up. Be ready by seven."

* * *

Christian groaned as Burt pulled the car up to the gate with the label, Webster Family Farm, perched next to it. He's not used to this kind of living. He came from the city where the most dirt they see is the one at the beach. If this wasn't something court-appointed, then someone would never catch him at this kind of place willingly. Burt drove the car up the spiral driveway, and parked in front of a two-story house. It is a lot bigger the hole in the wall houses Christian is used to from being bounced around from numerous foster homes. A couple stood outside the house on the wraparound porch. They were dressed in jeans and cowboy boots which made this whole scenery all the more lame to Christian.

"Hi," the woman, a brunette, greeted with a friendly smile when they got out of the car. "I'm Hannah and this is my husband Neal. You will meet our daughter, Tara, a little while later. Welcome to our farm."

Burt shook the woman's extended hand and introduced himself. He turned to Christian, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "This is Christian Reed."

"Nice to meet you, Christian," Neal said, extending his hand to the younger gentleman. Christian couldn't quite read the expression on the man's face. He seemed completely impassive to having a criminal in his home.

"You, too, sir." He figured he might as well be polite considering the fact that he is going to be living with these people for the rest of the summer. He turned his attention to Hannah and smiled. "It's nice to meet you, as well, ma'am."

Burt gave him a look. Christian wasn't usually this polite but there is something about these two that made him want to come off as not a total loser. Maybe it's because this is the first time he's ever stuck around after hours for his community service. He usually just showed up at the ass crack of dawn in a horrible orange jump suit and picked up trash from the side of the road. To actually be living with the people that held the key to his last chance is foreign to him.

Hannah ushered them into the house, which looked a lot nicer then the homes Christian is used to living in. There is stair case adjacent to the door in the small foyer. There are pictures on the wall, precious memories shared between the family that lived there locked inside the frames on the wall. There pictures of animals on the other side of the wall, and pictures of the farm's landscape.

Christian followed behind the adults and into the kitchen with his duffle bag of clothes in hand. Hannah poured coffee for the adults and gave Christian a Pepsi with a smile. He half-listened as Burt explained his situation to the Webster's. He told them the low down of how he'd be visiting every two weeks to make sure Christian was in good hands, and made them promise to call him if things got out of hand, and not the police because they were a last resort. Hannah assured him that the police wouldn't be necessary, and Christian couldn't help but scoff because this lady trusted him a little too much. He covered his scoff though with faking chocking on his Pepsi when Burt sent him a death glare. After signing some papers, Burt shook hands with couple before announcing his departure. He motioned for Christian to follow him as he headed out the door.

"This is your last chance, Christian," Burt stated the obvious as they stood outside on the porch. "You need to shape up."

"I heard you and Judge Sanders loud and clear," Christian said.

"Good," Burt said sternly. "I'll see you in two weeks."

Christian stood on the porch, and watched as Burt's car glided out of the farm's gate. The Sydney summer wisped around him like a warm blanket during the winter. Days on the farm seemed to be a lot hotter than in the city. Christian stood out there admiring the view the farm provided. The tall grass whispered softly, the tall brown weeds shifting in the stale wind. A heard of sheep were out further in the yard surrounded by a gate. Christian wondered just what these people would have him doing here. They didn't seem to have a lot of work if they were allowing convicts like him to live and work on their farm.

"There you are," Hannah said, when he walked into the house a while later, pulling off the worn brown gloves from her hands. She had her light brown hair pulled up into a tight bun. "I'll show you to your room."

Christian followed Hannah up the stairs and down a spacious hallway, where a pop song, he thinks it might be that Bieber kid, came from behind one of the doors. There were more pictures on the wall, this time of a girl dressed in costumes, standing on the tips of her toes in ballet shoes. In some of the pictures, her long light brown hair cascaded down her back as she stood en pointe.

"This is your room," Hannah said, coming to stop in front of the second door on the right side of the hallway. "If you need anything just holler. You can change the room however you like."

"Thanks," Christian smiled genuinely at her.

She let him be once he headed inside the room. The room is nice. There is a simple blue painted on the wall, and few items that looked like they belonged to a teenage male. There is a desk adjacent to the bed and a closet beside the bathroom door. The window above the desk had an amazing view of the actual farm. When he looked out the window, he saw barns and pig pens. In hindsight he thought it would look like a fucking wreck, but it actually didn't look that bad.

Christian dropped his duffle bag on the bed, and unzipped it. He tossed the few clothes he owned into one of the drawers. He took out the small picture he carried around everywhere with him from the bottom of his back. He looked down at the smiling faces and felt a tug at his heart. He stuck it inside the pillow case before the memories of _that night_ slipped into his mind. To clear his mind, Christian decided a shower would be good. He'd spent almost three hours in the car with Burt and already the country hair was starting to make him uncomfortable. He took off his shirt, tossing it blindly behind him on the bed.

Just as he opened the bathroom door, he stopped at the sight before him. A girl, around his age who he assumed is Hannah and Neal's daughter, stood in nothing but her bra and panties. She held a towel in her hand, drying out the water from her long brown hair. When she spotted him, she jumped, using her hands instead of the towel to cover herself, not very good if he were being honest.

Christian couldn't help but stare at the girl. Her slightly tanned skin glowed against the pink and white underwear set. Her body was killer, too. She wasn't that tall but the legs she did have seemed to go on for days. She's cute, too. She had this tiny little button nose and soft features that made her look so innocent and naïve.

Because he didn't like to make things easier for people, Christian leaned against the doorway and smirked, eyeing her up and down. "You must be Tara."

She looked horrified. She finally realized that her hands were doing nothing to cover her body, and picked up the towel, wrapping it tightly around her frame. "And you don't knock."

He grinned. She got even cuter when flustered. "Calm down, training bra, you're the one that didn't lock the door."

Tara, flustered, didn't know what to say. She'd never been exposed this much in front of a stranger before. "How was I supposed to know you'd be here?"

He smirked at her, his brown eyes shining. "Let me know when you're finished," he winked before shutting the door behind him.


	2. Bringing Home Bad Boy

**A/N:** _Thank you everyone for the reviews on last chapter. I am really glad that you're liking this story. I am having an amazing time writing it, and my muse seems to really love Tara/Christian at the moment because I have so many ideas for them. Anyway, I hope you like this story._

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**Chapter Two | Bringing Home Bad Boy**

Tara Webster paced the length of her room, cellphone tightly pressed against her ear as she waited for her best friend to pick up the phone. When she didn't Tara groaned, tossing the phone on her bed. She couldn't believe that just happened to her. She didn't even know this boy and already he'd seen more of her than her own boyfriend had in the four months they've been dating. She'd forgotten all about the boy her parents agreed to let work on their farm in order to work off his community service. Tara didn't know much about this boy that would be living less than ten feet away from her. All she knew is that he's in trouble with the law for stealing and stuff. Call her sheltered, but Tara has never know someone that has actually gone to jail for committing a crime. She knew her parents needed help, but allowing a convict to live in their house didn't seem logical.

Tara knew that her parents were waiting for her down stairs. After her encounter with the convict, her mother knocked on her door and requested she come down for dinner in thirty. She reminded her mother for the twentieth time that she had plans with Ethan and wouldn't be joining them for dinner. Hannah Webster, however, still insisted that her daughter come to dinner to socialize with their new house guest. Tara hated this boy because of the effect he was having on her. She's the one that lived here, and yet he had her running away from her own home.

Sighing, Tara opened her bedroom door and headed down the stairs. She tiptoed down the hall towards the kitchen, pausing to take a deep breathe, before she went him. Her dad sat at the head of the kitchen table with his beige cowboy hat beside him. Her mother is putting the finishing touches on dinner, her hair pulled up in a tight bun. The convict boy is sitting across from where she usually does, listening to her father talk about the work he'll need help with starting tomorrow morning. When he looked up, his eyes locked with hers. They were a bright brown that shined mischievously as he eyed her up and down before settling back on her face. The adorable mole above his lip rose up when he smirked. Tara tore her eyes away from his soul-reading ones, and cleared her throat, letting her presents be known to her parents.

"Oh, there you are, honey," her mother turned with a bright smile, as she set the serving dish in the middle of the table. "Did you get a chance to introduce yourself to Christian?"

_So, that is his name,_ Tara thought to herself as she eyed the boy staring at her amusingly. "We meet briefly upstairs," she mumbled, taking her seat.

"It's nice to meet you, Tara," Christian said sweetly, as if he hadn't seen her half naked.

The dinner conversation was filled with mostly farm talk. Her dad explained to Christian the terms and ruled of what he would be doing on the farm. According to her dad, Christian was supposed to have a curfew of midnight, as stated by his social worker. Tara half-listened to the conversation. Instead, she texted her best friend Katrina "Kat" Karamakov underneath the table. It's not that Tara didn't care about the farm, she just would rather be doing something a lot more fun, like hanging out with her boyfriend who is due to pick her up any moment.

"Tara," her mother nearly shouted, snapping her out of the conversation with Kat. "What is so important that you have to text at the table?"

Tara blushed. "Uh, Ethan is on his way to pick me up for our date. He should be here in ten."

"Tara, can I see you in the hall?" her mother asked, although Tara knew her request isn't optional. Embarrassed, Tara follows her mother into the hall. Once they reached the hall, Tara's mother turned to her with an expression she couldn't quite read.

"I told you not to go out tonight," her mother pressed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "We have a guest in the house, and you need to be here."

"I didn't invite him here, mom," Tara argued back. She couldn't believe her mother wanted her to change her plans for some guy that technically wasn't even a guest. More like a court appointed visitor. "Why should I have to change my plans for some guy I don't even know? And quite frankly, I don't want to know him."

"Tara Webster, he is a quest in this house regardless of how he came here, and you will respect him," her mother snapped.

"Whatever," Tara said, rolling her eyes. "I'm going out with Ethan tonight. You can entertain the convict because I'm not going to," she snapped before storming out the door.

* * *

The Sydney air whispered against his bare skin like a comforting hug from an old friend. He didn't get this kind of a fresh air in the city, and the change didn't seem so bad. He knew nights like these were rare, when the wind decided to blow softly at the trees, gliding through its leaves like a dance. Out here in the country, he could actually hear the crickets exchanging words back and forth. The sounds of the farm surrounded him, hidden deep with undiscovered possibilities. He'd come out here after dinner with Neal and Hannah, who tried her best to cover up her daughter's behavior with some bullshit about her meeting friends and not being able to get out of it. Christian isn't an idiot, and he's not deaf. He heard every word of what Tara said about him.

Christian isn't pissed or anything because she told no lies about him. He is a convict that's only placed in their house because of the court. That doesn't mean that he doesn't fucking hate the chick now. He's used to being judged, but usually by people that knew him or at least of him. This girl knew nothing about his life, and yet she thought it was okay to completely write him off. Excuse the fuck out of him because he didn't grow up on some posh farm with two parents that provided him with everything. He hates her a little more because of the fact that her mother is the one that covered up her bratty attitude like some kind or a reflex.

If he still smoked, a cigarette or weed would be like heaven for him right now. He guessed he'd have to deal with his problems the old fashion way, burry them deep somewhere until he could no longer remember them. He's been doing that dance for years now, ever since the accident. He's used to people treating him like some kind of a criminal, but there's something about this girls words that struck a nerve in him. If she were a dude, he would have kicked her ass, but there is no way he'd do that seeing as how she wasn't a guy. For some reason he wanted to prove this girl wrong, to show her that she isn't just some criminal she could look down on from her ivory tower. He normally wouldn't give a fuck or even be thinking about it, but something about Tara Webster sets her apart from all the other idiots that judge him.

The faint sound of an orchestra brought him from his thoughts. It played softly, and if he hadn't listened real close then he never would have heard it a second time. He stepped off the porch, and followed his ears in the direction of the music. He got louder, although still faint in sound, when he rounded the corner of the house. The music came from one of the barns, the soft yellow light shining from underneath the door. Christian thought about turning around and going back to the house, but he's curious so decided to open up the door.

He watched as Tara dance the length of the barn, her body moving gracefully across the hardwood floor. She was too focused on her dancing to notice him through the long mirrored that outlined one wall of the barn. Christian watched her in amazement as she told a story with her body, a story that he was anxious to know more of. He'd noticed the ballet pictures around the Webster home, but this was much different, live and in the flesh. He isn't a stranger to ballet, his mother danced for years, and seeing Tara dance tugged at his heart strings. The way she moves gracefully and with precision made him stare at her in complete awe. When the dance ended, it took all he had in him not to clap.

"What is it with you and sneaking up on me?" Tara asked, locking eyes with him through the mirror. She tried not to laugh at the shocked look on his face. She'd known he'd been there since the moment he opened the barn door. She turned, hands on her hips, and asked, "Well?"

"Sorry, I'm a convict, it's kind of what we do," he countered smoothly. He watched as regret twisted her soft features. She could have the apology.

"I-I didn't," she started to say but couldn't get the words out. "I'm sorry about that. It was rude."

Christian shrugged. "Whatever. It's true though, I am a criminal."

"You don't need me reminding you."

"I'm reminded every day I wake up," he said, moving further into the barn. "I'm only here because a court appointed order to keep me out of jail."

Tara didn't know what to say. She regretted saying those words the moment they feel from her lips. She was just so angry at her mother for pretending that she took it out on Christian which wasn't fair to him at all. "Regardless, I'm sorry."

Christian looked into her brown eyes and knew that she told the truth, that she really is sorry for the things she said about him. He wanted to tell her that he forgave her, but he couldn't allow himself to do that. He couldn't allow a single moment of weakness to escape. He refused to allow someone to see him in a vulnerable state. That only gave them lead way to fucking you over in the in. He wouldn't let that happen, not again.

"I thought you were on a date," he said, changing the subject.

Tara hung her head, playing with her fingers, before she gazed up at him. "My boyfriend couldn't make it. Something came up."

The way she hung her head and looked everywhere but at him after she said it caused another tug at his heart. It seemed like something "coming up" for her boyfriend seemed to be a recurring action. Something inside him wanted to wrap his arms around her and promise her things he couldn't give. Christian scolded himself for thinking that way. This chick didn't give a shit about him, so why should he show compassion for her?

_Because that's who you are,_ a voice whispered to him, but he pushed it away.

"He promised we'd go out tomorrow night." Tara wasn't sure why she told him this, but she felt the need to say it aloud. "It's just that he needed to work on his piece for the showcase with his dancer."

Christian scoffed, saying the first thing that came to his mind, "He's probably fucking her."

It seemed like the air around them went stale the moment the words left his mouth. Tara looked like she wanted to burst into tears, before her face contorted into an angry snarl.

"How dare you," she snapped, pointing a finger at Christian. "You don't know anything about my relationship, so mind your own business."

"I know that any guy that stands his girlfriend up to work with his 'dancer' is probably getting it from somewhere else," Christian countered. "And I've seen you, training bra, I wouldn't blame the dude for looking elsewhere."

Without thinking, Tara reached out and slapped him across the face, her hand colliding with his cheek. "Ethan is dedicated to his work, so you have no idea what you are talking about. At least he's not a loser convict that has to steal from service stations like some common criminal. You're pathetic."

"At least I didn't stand you up," Christian said emotionless, before turning to leave the barn.


	3. ChaChemicals React (Part I)

**A/N: **_Thank you to everyone that reviewed the last chapter. I am really glad that you all are liking the story. A few people have asked if Tara goes to the academy and she does. This story takes place during the summer which is why she isn't there at the moment._**  
**

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**Chapter Three | Chemicals React (Part I)  
**

Tara listened as dishes clanked together from the kitchen through the floor. She could hear them down there shuffling about, starting their day as they finished up breakfast. Her nail scratched against the skin of her hand, leaving behind small flecks of cotton candy pink nail polish. She's never been one to run and hide from her problems. That's the thing she really admired about herself. The National Ballet Academy taught her to face her problems head on because in the end, they would make her a better dancer. However, all that flew out the window the moment Christian Reed swaggered into her life with his smirk and soul-reading eyes. She could get away with skipping breakfast; her parents wouldn't mind. They'd probably think she got up early to practice, but the thing she couldn't get away with is hiding from Christian. The boy slept less the ten feet away from her room and they shared a bathroom!

She'd replayed the events that transpired between them all morning. She felt bad for what she said to Christian, but a small part of her felt like he deserved it. He'd said some horrible things to her, too, when it came to her relationship with Ethan. He didn't know either of them. Where did he get off spewing his opinions all over the place? But still there's a part of her, a really small part, that nagged at her brain that maybe Christian could be right. Tara buried that small part deep down and refused to resurrect it anytime soon.

Once she heard the wooden screen door shut, followed by the back door ten minutes later, Tara made her exit. She crept down the stairs like a thief in her own house. Once she reached the kitchen safely, Tara let out a deep breath she didn't realize she'd been keeping in. She grabbed one of the healthy breakfast salads Abigail, a friend of hers from The Academy, suggested she try from the fridge and poured a tall cup of orange juice. She debated whether or not to go back upstairs to her room, but decided against it. Instead, she sat down at the table.

She'd just dug into her salad, which tasted awful, when her cell buzzed. Tara sighed as she eyed the name. "Hello?"

"Hi, babe, I was worried you wouldn't pick up. I am so sorry about last night," Ethan's velvety voice floated apologetically though the phone.

"It's fine," Tara insisted, forcing herself to smile although he couldn't see her. "I know how much this showcase means to you. It's your big debut."

"I knew you would understand." That's her: Tara The Understanding. She's been 'understanding' when it came to Ethan since they started dating. When Ethan couldn't make it to their date or help her practice because something got in the way, Tara always understands. "How about I make it up to you tonight? Kat and I are throwing a party and I'd love for you to come."

"That's great! Maybe I can convince my parents to let me stay a few nights with Kat and we can spend some time together," she suggested hopefully as her excitement bubbled. She'd love to get away from the farm for a few days to hang with Kat and Ethan in the city. It would give her some time to clear her mind, and get away from the situation with Christian she'd managed to got herself into. She hated tip-toeing around in her own home in order to avoid a confrontation with someone who is court appointed to be there.

"You think your parents would go for that?" The way he said it, Tara got the feeling maybe he was hoping her parents would shoot down the suggestion. Tara pushed that aside, and chalked it up to her being paranoid. She blamed it all on Christian.

"I can ask. I can also can lie and say you're living with your mother this summer."

"That could work," he said cheerfully. "Let me know what your parents say. I'll call you later."

Tara smiled softly into the phone as she said goodbye. Tara's always overcome with a wave sadness after she's done talking to Ethan or anyone else from the academy. She misses being there with her boyfriend and best friends. Living so far away on the farm makes her feel out of the loop somehow. She's never been ashamed of the farm before, and she isn't now, but she wishes she could live closer to Sammy, Kat, and Ethan. Don't get her wrong, at one point Tara loved living on the farm. However, now she can't help noticing something was _missing._

She's forcing down the rest of the salad when her mom comes through the back door. Her plaid button down shirt is damp and her brown hair is pulled back from her face. "Hey, how long have you been up?"

"A while." It's not a complete lie.

"How was your date last night with Ethan?" Hannah pulls out the chair across from her daughter and settled in.

Tara it's dumb. She knows her parents aren't too fond of Ethan, which pisses her off because like Christian, they don't have the right to judge him. "It was fun. In fact, he asked me out again tonight, and I'm going."

"Don't you think maybe you should stay home," Hannah suggested evenly. "We could use the help."

"Isn't that what Christian is here for?"

"Yes. However, you live here, too." Her brown eyes softened with sadness. "I know it's been hard for you since-"

"I'm not talking about this with _you_," Tara rushed out. She backed away from the table as if it were engulfed with flames. She ignored her mother's cries beckoning her back to the kitchen. She rushed up the stairs to her room, putting as much distance between them as she could. Tara closed the door to her room, sliding down until she hit the ground. Bringing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and squeezed tight. Flashes of memories she's tried to suppress projected against her brain. She forced her eye lids shut, shaking her head back and forth as a way to somehow banish the memories.

Once they stopped, Tara grabbed her cellphone. She tapped her foot impatiently against the wooden floor, waiting for the person to pick up.

"Hey, bitch, what's up?" The high-pitched voice of her best friend, Katrina "Kat" Karamakov, floated through the phone.

"I need you to come and get me." Tara used the door handle to pick herself up. She scooped up the picture frame beside her bed, hugging it tight to her chest. "Hannah is being a major pain."

"I know what you mean. I think Natasha is on her period or something. I'll be there to pick you up in thirty. Be ready," Kat said before hanging up.

* * *

Tara nearly jumped with joy when she spotted the familiar red BMW and its blonde driver pull through the farm gate almost two hours later. Kat was never on time. When she said five minutes, she actually meant thirty. Tara sprinted down the porch steps, and hopped in the car.

"Heyy!" Kat exclaimed. She wore hot pink shorts, gray baggy cut-off shirt with the Empire State Building on the front, and huge Chanel sunglasses. Her fluffy flaxen colored hair was up in a messy bun. Only Kat could pull off this kind attire and make it completely sexy.

"Get me out of here, please. I can't take it anymore," Tara groaned, leaning her head back against the seat.

"Oh-My-God. Who is that?" Kat practically drooled over the sheering wheel as she stared in the distance.

Tara turned. A couple feet away from Kat's car, stood Christian minus a shirt stacking barrels if hay. His olive skin glistened against the harsh sun. Tara wanted to look away, she has a boyfriend for goodness sakes, but she couldn't. Christian's body was sinfully magnificent. He wasn't the bulkiest guy, which she actually liked, but there was definition in his abs and back.

"Maybe the farm isn't so bad after all." Kat shut off the engine, opened her door, and strutted toward Christian. "Hi, Mr. Webster!"

Tara sighed, ducking low in her seat as she watched Kat sway her hips as she walked. She pretended not to notice Christian as she explained pleasantries with Tara's father. Tara rolled her eyes when Kat "noticed" Christian. She shook his glove-covered hand, putting on her best flirty smile. Tara's seen her flirt with plenty boys before, but there was something about the way Kat rolled her blonde hair around her finger and threw her head back as she laughed at something Christian said made Tara want to punch the wall. It was sickening to sit there and watch her best friend practically wet her panties over a boy she didn't even know.

"What's with the evil eyes, T?" She jumped at the sound of Kat's voice. It took her a minute to realize the girl was now standing beside the driver's door again instead of flirting with Christian. Speaking of, where was he? He no longer stood next to her father anymore. Kat slipped back into the car, propping her shades at the crown of her head. "Hottie is coming with us. I invited him to the party."

"What?" Tara shouted. "You can't invite him!"

Kat rolled her blue eyes. "Oh, hush. He's hot which means he gets and automatic invite."


End file.
